Please Don't Leave Me
by hawkdeer
Summary: In the heat of an argument, you always say  the wrong thing. Dramione: "I knew you would never change," she whispered so quietly he almost did not hear her. "You're just like your father; always running away, Draco."
1. Chapter 1

The saucer made a whistling sound as it flew through the air, alerting Draco to its trajectory, allowing him to duck before it could hit his head. It sailed past his head and crashed into the wall less than a second later, denting the wall and creating an almighty bang.

"Jesus Christ, Hermione!" shouted Draco. "You almost hit me!"

"Just get out!" screamed Hermione, pointing vigorously at the door.

She reached for another cooking utensil to throw, scattering spoons and other small items not worth throwing onto the already cluttered floor. Seeing his chance to escape while her back was turned, Draco ran to their bedroom. He gathered as many of his clothes as he could fit into a bag and emptied the contents of his bedside table into the bag, before returning to the kitchen.

He paused in their bedroom doorway, aware of a number of picture frames smashed onto the hardwood floor. Draco picked one up some glass fell from the frame. In it was a moving photograph of the couple in Romania, posing in front of a very angry looking dragon. It blew some fire at the couple, who dodged it then turned to each other and laughed. They shared a deep kiss and never looked away from the other. It was one of his most favourite memories of their long relationship. The Weasley's had been invited to visit Charlie at his dragon reserve and Hermione being an extension of their family was also asked to go. She had brought Draco along with her, much to the dismay of Ron and Harry. The others were much more accepting and Mrs Weasley took him to the side, grabbed his face and kissed his cheeks, welcoming him into their family. From that point on, he was expected to attend family gatherings at the Burrow with Hermione, who had proudly worn him on her arm.

Careful not to cut himself, Draco took the photo out of the frame and placed it in his pocket. His bag slung over one shoulder, Draco turned to Hermione as he reached the front door. She was crouched in the corner of their small kitchen, her head in her hands and her knees brought up close to her, shaking like a leaf. She had made herself as small as possible. Hearing him return, she lifted her head slowly, eventually meeting his cold, emotionless eyes with her soaking wet eyes.

"I knew you would never change," she whispered so quietly he almost did not hear her. "You're just like your father; always running away, Draco."

Her words were like a blow to the stomach, he was stunned. She had always been the most accepting of him after the war, the one who most believed could change. He thought she had noticed him change and he knew Hermione said the worst things when she was angry, as he had been on the receiving end of many of those insults. Being compared to his father though, his waste-of-space, degenerate and debauched father... well, that was a new low, even for Hermione.

They stared at each other, long and hard. He could see her wavering, noting the beginning of the pattern of their arguments. They were always started by something small, an innocent comment made by Draco that would send Hermione up the wall. Hermione would then proceed to throw insults around like common language, digging deep into the secrets he had confided in her and throwing them back at him... But then she would stop and crawl into a ball that Draco could not penetrate. It could be hours or only a minute before she would clamber out of it and into his arms, apologising again. He always welcomed her back, believing her when she insisted nothing she had said was true and that she still loved him very much.

This time, Draco knew it was different. Not for Hermione, but for himself. This time when she came crawling into his arms apologising, he did not know whether he could blindly accept it. He did not know whether he could accept her anymore. He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out before facing Hermione again.

"You win, Hermione," said Draco, his tone so devoid of emotion or any kind of feeling that she looked up at him with wide eyes. He wanted to make things painless, or at least less painful, but by the looks of things, he had only made it worse.

Hermione jumped up from her corner in the kitchen and ran to him. She grabbed his arms and held tightly to him, forcibly turning him to face her. He wrapped his arms lightly around her, hoping to deter her with his unloving touch. She held him closer though, burying her face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. He smelt like home, somewhere she would not mind spending the rest of life. It was a comforting smell, one that helped her fall asleep at night and with it missing, kept her awake. Draco smelt fresh, like soap, and he did not need to wear cologne to smell nice; he had a natural scent that Hermione found intoxicating.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Hermione into Draco. "I'm so, so sorry."

Feeling tears approaching, Hermione squeezed her eyes tight and pushed them farther upon Draco's body. However, he soon felt a wet patch on his chest as he held the shaking brunette. He fought the urge to stroke her hair, something he liked to do when she was crying or when sat with her head in his lap.

He knew that if he did not act soon, he would be coerced into staying again. Stepping away, he pried her arms off as she desperately clung onto him. Draco stood holding Hermione at arm's length as she looked at him, sobbing silently. They stood in the same position for what seemed like hours, while Hermione shook.

"Please," whispered Hermione.

"I'm just your punching bag, Hermione," Draco sighed. "You don't want a relationship; you just need a confirmation of you worth."

Draco sighed heavily again, let go of Hermione and stepped away, closer to the front door. He adjusted the bag strap on his shoulder, avoiding her piercing gaze that he knew would melt his knees. He had never felt so brave in his life; walking away from the most damaging woman he had ever met, even if he loved her. Draco had realised Hermione was the type of girl who could lure any man in and rip his heart out, shoving it in his face just to feel better about herself.

Hermione made another grab for Draco, but this time he was having none of it. He pushed her gently away from him, earning him the most heartbroken look from her.

"No, no, no," she mumbled quietly. "I need you."

Her hands grasped at thin air as she fell to his feet. He crying became vocal then. Her sobs shattering the silence that had befallen their flat. She struggled for breath, her throat constricting. A lump formed in Draco's throat, seeing her in such a condition, looking like a helpless beggar. He reached a hand out to help her up, but seeing this made her flare up like an angry dog and she swatted his hand away.

With one disgusted look back at Hermione on the floor, Draco knew this would ultimately be one of the best decisions he had ever made. She saw the look on his face, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had formed.

"Please," she begged, on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please... I can change."

"I don't think you can," said Draco, finding his voice again. "Much like my father... and myself."

A fresh round of tears appeared and Hermione struggled to get up. She grabbed the table by the door and pulled herself up, straightened her clothes and composed herself. She looked Draco right in the eyes; a new resolve could be seen in both of their eyes. In Draco's pale grey eyes, a newfound tenacity that would help him leave once and for all. In Hermione's bright brown eyes, the determination to show him this would not leave her with a permanent wound.

Draco put his hands in his pocket, feeling the photo in one of them. Then he opened the door with no more resistance from Hermione and closed it behind him, letting out a breath he had not known he had been holding in, before apparating away.


	2. Chapter 2

They lay in comfortable silence; the type of silence that did not need to be interrupted by small talk, nor did it make them feel awkward or uneasy. It was the kind of silence most people experienced around family or close friends and if they were lucky enough, that special person.

The moment was perfect. They were both naked, lying beside each other, neither feeling the least bit self-conscious about their appearance, knowing the other did not care. The soft cotton sheets were pulled waist high, leaving their chests exposed. Neither them had spoken a word for a long time, at ease in the peaceful night's stillness. In the distance, with the window wide open, the sound of traffic could be heard along with the hushed sounds of nocturnal animals waking.

Draco lay on his back, his right arm behind his head, staring at Hermione. He watched her tracing the faint dark mark on his left arm, with her steady breathing hitting his shoulder, reminding him this was indeed very real. If it had been anyone else, Draco would not have let them see the remains of a very bad mistake he made when he was a foolish teenager, but with Hermione, he felt so at ease and content, he would let her do almost anything. This included a few things he would never admit to his mother, or anybody else for that matter.

Draco sighed softly, releasing a lungful of air, and closed his eyes, relaxing into Hermione's soft caresses. His arm tickled where she touched him, but he only smiled more, enjoying the feeling more than he ever had before. He was soon coming to realise that of all the places in the world, this was fast becoming his favourite. The moment really could not have been spoiled by anything, save an interruption from the Dark Lord himself. Thankfully, that would never happen, leaving them to relish in each other's company.

He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into a never-ending abyss, which he had all the time in the world to explore with Hermione by his side. He knew he was falling love, there had been some tell tale signs. He was starting to imagine their future together, one with bushy-haired, blonde children and growing old together, sitting in matching armchairs with grey hair and many grandchildren underfoot. He grew overly angry at the thought of anyone hurting her, or touching her, or even looking at her the wrong way. He had even realised he would take an unforgivable curse for her. He knew he had fallen and hard.

Love... The word sounded brilliant in his head, finally making sense to him. It was like falling into another world that was far better than the one he came from, a world he never wanted to leave. He felt like Alice, falling into the rabbit hole, but he did not want to leave his Wonderland.

"Draco?" whispered Hermione, pulling him up gently from his reverie back into reality.

His eyes found hers as she stopped tracing his mark, resting her hand on his arm. Her brilliant brown orbs pierced his soul, like a dagger. She looked at him gently, with genuine affection but also with a purpose, one that she could not be deferred from. Draco waited for her to speak, but she only looked into his eyes, as if waiting for him to show any sign of wavering.

"Can you promise me something?" said Hermione, straightening her back, a look of new, staunch confidence in her eyes.

"Of course, 'Mione," said Draco.

He held eye contact with her, observing the change in her body language. She went from a show of silent confidence to near break down and tears.

"Please don't b-break my heart," said Hermione, gulping down the tears she felt forming in the corner of her eyes. The last thing she needed at that moment was to cry, when she was already opening up and vulnerable to whatever Draco would say back to her.

"I won't," mumbled Draco, quickly pulling Hermione close to him and gently stroking her hair. She visibly relaxed into his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck, where she to fit so perfectly. "I promise."

Hermione revelled in his soft touch, having him stroke her hair was truly one of her favourite past times with Draco. However, she jumped up suddenly, struggling out of Draco's grasp. She now had a hardened look in her eye, catching Draco completely off guard, her arms crossed protectively over her naked chest. He was unsure of what to do with Hermione like this. She looked like she would either burst into tears again or hex him into another dimension if he said another word. But he also knew that if he did nothing, it could be even worse. He began to reach out his hand to touch her arm, a safe place, when she spoke.

"If you do, Draco, well..." said Hermione in a faintly warning tone. Draco tensed, ready to reach for his wand if things got nasty, but he was not expecting what came next. Hermione spluttered through a thick veil of tears that had suddenly appeared, "R-Ron said he would never break my heart and then he did, so bad!"

Hermione fell back on Draco, sobbing onto his bare chest. Draco was too stunned to react for a moment; this witch changed so much he did not know if he could handle her. When his brain had clicked with the changing situation, he body moved accordingly. Wrapping his arms around Hermione, Draco made soft cooing noises and tried to calm her down.

"Oh, Hermione," said Draco, pulling her close again and rubbing her back gently. "Ron is just a big... prick!"

Hermione let out a choking laugh. She did not know whether or laugh or cry, settling for a mix between the two as Draco just held her tenderly.

"It's just... I-it is still broken," muttered Hermione, burying her face into his chest, but Draco pulled her off him with a confused look on his face. She hesitated before explaining, "My heart, Draco... It's still broken."

Draco let go of Hermione and shuffled away from her, to the edge of the bed. Moments ago he had been having thoughts of being in love with Hermione and their future together, only to be told that she... what? That she still had feelings for her prick of an ex-boyfriend? That she could not love him because her heart had been broken? He did not understand. His mind rushed as he tried to think of all the possible meanings of what she had said.

If her heart was still broken, did that mean she had not gotten over Ron yet? Was she still expecting Ron to come back and fix it? Or was Draco supposed to fix it? How was he going to do that? He had never dealt with a broken heart, let alone have a broken heart himself. Sure, he knew how to break hearts, something he was not exactly proud of. He was sure Pansy still hated him even though she was happily married with two children. But to fix one? That was certainly a baffling subject.

Draco did not know what to do and felt more confused and anxious by the minute. It did not help that all Hermione could do was sit there and stare at him, her eyes filling with tears as she fully expected him to tear whatever was left of her heart that she had given him. He wanted to ask her what he should do, but now felt like one of those moments where he had to think for himself, use his semi-intelligent mind.

"I-I don't know what to do Hermione," he answered honestly. "I want to help, I just don't know how. What do you want me to do, Hermione?"

She smiled sweetly at him, obviously pleased with his answer. That smile still had to the power to make Draco's stomach turn and flutter. It made him feel light headed and wonderful. He knew he would do anything to see that smile every day, even if it meant heading into uncharted waters. Eventually he would learn how to fix her heart and hopefully this knowledge would help him in the future if they had a daughter. Even if he did not, he would still know how to look after their daughter; a swift punch to the guy who had torn her heart up would sort the problem out in no time.

"Just," began Hermione, breathing in and out and brushing away her remaining tears. "Just, please don't leave me."


End file.
